12 To Make an Offer (3)

It grew foggy and soon he couldn't see the way back anymore. The air darkened as he walked and he threw up a thin shield to ward off the smoke from what smelled like burning trees.

Beneath his feet, the ground had turned black and dry. There was a very distinct scorch line that separated the wet forest from the dry land. Black smoke drifted out from the ground as if it were still hot and burning.

In a sense, it was.

As soon as he stepped over the black line, flame sped down from the sides and lit up the line as if it were a fuse line. When Faust reached out to touch the fire, the flame eagerly grabbed hold like a living creature. He jerked his hand back. Soft white light enveloped the burn and began healing.

A fire-type servitor? Why would that kind of creature live in a forest? Was it because the servitor was still young? Faust wondered as he headed forward.

Would it burn down the rest of the forest when it was ready to leave the nest?

Dry leaves crumbled underneath him and some crackled eerily like bones. Faust scanned the surrounding, sending a gentle wave of light to search for souls. There were hardly any but he couldn't be certain whether there were any more of those soulless servants.

A body without a soul was more or less dead. There was nobody that Faust knew of who could animate corpses.

The skill of a necromancer was similar but it wasn't the same. Necromancers called upon the soul of the creature and create a corpse from the memory of the soul. If the soul had left the body for too long, the necromancer wouldn't be able to summon it.

Faust had rarely seen a creature without a soul, much less a creature without a soul who could think and speak for its own. Was that the power of the servitor or the power of the Light Dragon?

A large crack came from ahead of him. Faust halted in his steps.

It came again, like a creature slowly advancing toward him. The rustle of dry leaves on the ground generated a vague description for Faust. Two feet, possibly a tail? Faust shuddered. A lizard?

It stopped but it didn't emerge from the smoke. If anything, the smoke grew stronger. If it wasn't for the shield, Faust wouldn't have been able to see his own hands. Cautiously, he strengthened the shield and dome-shaped light began glowing softly to convey his warning to the creatures as well.

Kwaaang!

Sharp pincer-like objects banged against his shield from both sides. There was a small dent from the brute force. It seemed like the light from his shield was drawing attention.

Faust deactivated his shield and held his breath as the smoke cover him. The pincer pounced on him and he jumped back. The flame crackled in warning behind him.

There was nothing he could see as the smoke grew even darker. Faust attempted to blow them away with a wave of his arm but it was to no avail as more of them rolled toward him. It came from all directions.

He knew the creature could see him because he felt the way the smoke began swirling and closing in on him as if trying to twist him into fine dust. Faust closed his eyes.

Immediately, he saw its soul. It was just like those he'd seen in black gate servitors except smaller as if it was still growing. It fizzled and spit out white dust unstably. To kill a soul that size, Faust would require some external aid.

There weren't a lot light particles around him. The blackness of the smoke had eaten up the light in the surrounding area.

There was the flame but Faust cautiously avoided it because if he was right, there were also tiny pieces of soul imbued in those flames.

Since souls were made of pure light, it'd be unwise to use them since the power extracted from a single soul was ten-times the normal amount he'd use. Faust wasn't sure if he could properly extract and command them at his level. Killing them was a lot easier.

Besides, it was rather…unethical to use souls as attack weapons without their consent. It was the same concept as hurling a hunter as a projectile at a creature.

Kschck, kschck…

The creature advanced on him slowly. In the silence broken only by the flames, its steps were distinct.

"...A human of light," the creature growled. Its voice came from somewhere higher than expected. Faust quietly took a few steps back. "The monster my Sovereign spoke of."

Faust conjured the sword from before and held it in the direction of the soul. "What else did the dragon say?" he asked mildly.

"You are well-versed in our language," the servitor said.

Before Faust had a chance to respond, pincers shot out and pierced the ground where Faust had been seconds ago. He landed awkwardly to the side and stumbled a few steps, barely dodging the reaching flames.

Swiftly, he stabbed his sword into the dirt.

The dark forest ground began to crack from the bottom of the sword and light flourished along the fault lines.

This was the light realm. Even if the servitor of this hive had masked away the light in the air with its smoke, the light was everywhere else.

The hand gripping the hilt was warm as energy flowed into his body. The flame behind him jerked back and even the smoke stopped swirling as if surprised. It began receding, revealing the tall servitor and the servants standing cautiously to the side.

The servitor was a half-dragon. Two strong legs held itself up and the black scales on its tail raked up the charred leaves on the ground as it moved. Its upper torso was that of an orc. Two long horns shot upward from its head but it had no tusks and rugged spikes hideously adorned its back without order.

Faust looked at its hands. They weren't pincers. Rather, from elbows down, the rest of its arms was sharpened into a long, curved blade like that of a reaper.

There was a black emblem etched in its chest and faint black smoke billowed out of it as if it were burning. It was the mark of the servitor but it was the first time Faust had seen it in black.

The sword in his hand stopped gathering light at his command. This was enough power to extinguish its soul.

"I hope we meet again under better circumstances," Faust said as he raised a hand.

Snap.

And the world grew quiet.

In his eyes, the light surged toward the soul and violently ripped it out of the monster. He could hear a faint scream but whether it was from the monster or the soul, Faust wasn't sure.

The soul rose above him and began to shrink. The fizzling grew more and more rapid as it desperately tried to regain control of itself.

And then it exploded.

Something wet splattered onto Faust's face. In front of him, the creature's body staggered and fell onto the ground. Its chest where the black emblem had been was gouged out by an unseen power.

Around him, the servants crumbled into dust and a sudden gush of wind blew them away. The flames went out. Quietly, the forest returned to a deep slumber devoid of the croaking frogs or chirping crickets.

Faust wiped his face with his sleeves and extracted the sword from the ground. But as he did, a thin column of black smoke rushed from the ground and burned his palm. Faust jerked his hand away but the smoke had already dissipated into the air.

All that was left was a small X on the edge of his palm he couldn't wipe away.

Without wasting any more time, Faust removed the ring from his finger and tossed it into the air. A white gate slowly opened and a gush of cold air greeted him as he entered the familiar training center. As soon as he passed through, the gate closed and the ring returned his hand.

It was dark outside, Faust noticed. He looked to the clock in the room; it was closing in on midnight. Two days had passed.

"Welcome back," the giraffe suddenly said in his head. "Oh, look at that ugly thing on your palm. You got cursed on your first day. Wonderful."

Faust looked at his palm. "What does it do?"

"It's the Curse of the Servitors," the giraffe told him but it didn't sound too worried. In fact, it sounded rather gleeful. "Well, it's harmless most of the time. Anyway, I feel the box on you. Bring it quickly."

"Not right now."

"No, bring me the box—"

"If I don't get my sleep, you don't get your box."

The giraffe went quiet.

Good.

* * *

Faust didn't sleep very well so he was awake before Nathaniel did. He went to the kitchen and mindlessly made himself a cup of latte.

Nothing new had happened while he was gone but as he checked the headlines from the day before, he saw that the french hunter Corentin had made a statement on the incident at the Association, taking partial blame for the escape of the creature.

Faust smiled. Ms. Belyre was resourceful as always.

An hour later, he heard Nathaniel coming out of his room. The strongest hunter looked very startled to see him. And then the man began frowning, slamming the cupboards loudly as he mumbled beneath his breath.

Faust watched him with tired eyes and turned away to drink his latte. Eventually, the man sorted himself out.

"You should've told me if you were going somewhere," Nathaniel said, setting down a plate loudly on the marble counter. "Did you tell anybody? No, of course you didn't. Not even Ms. Belyre knew where you went. If you were gone for five hours, fine, I can take that. But two days, Faust? That's a bit ridiculous. I had to clear a white gate on my own and Matt nearly lost an arm because you weren't there."

"I'm—"

"I'm not done." Nathaniel seethed. "You went away for two days without telling anybody. Do you know how long the assault team spent searching the city for you? You're lucky I convinced Ms. Emilia to not call for an official search party—"

"Probably more like she convinced you not to—but go on."

Nathaniel slammed his fist on the table and Faust jerked back. "Goddammit, Faust! Do you know how—"

The man caught Faust's expression and stopped himself with a difficult sigh. They ate quietly for a moment before the man begrudgingly broke the silence again.

"Where did you go anyway?" he asked. "Greece? Egypt? Some remote island? I even asked your brother and he said he saw you last in the training center but the security camera only caught you entering and not leaving and we thought—"

"Nate," Faust stopped him.

Nathaniel looked at him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Faust couldn't tell him the truth because Faust didn't know what Nathaniel would do if he knew.

"There was something I had to do," Faust said eventually.

"You don't want to tell me."

"Not right now."

"Then when?" Nathaniel demanded.

"...Next week," Faust decided. He wouldn't tell the man his power, but there were a lot of other things he could tell. "I need to sort something out first."

Nathaniel looked surprised at being given a time. He clearly had been expecting rejection. "Take your time," the man said finally and grabbed a stack of paper from the edge of the counter. "Meanwhile, you need to get ready for Legacy's Hunter Competition."

Glad of the change of topics, Faust took the papers. "Isn't there still five more days?"

"Yes, but as special guests, we're expected to fight as well. It's part of the prize and they want us to come over to test out the arena before the event."

Faust glanced at the man. "Are you a circus animal? Why do you lower yourself to perform for them?"

"It's an honor to participate," Nathaniel objected.

"That's what they tell you," Faust muttered, shaking his head. "Besides, you fight against people every Sunday like a circus freak. There's nothing special about fighting against you. Why would they make fighting you a prize?" He shook his head. "A bunch of idiots."

"Well, they're fighting against you and me," Nathaniel corrected him.

"...They can't even win against you. Why do I need to go?"

"Well…"

Faust frowned at Nathaniel's hesitance. What kind of horror did the hunter bring this time?

"We'll be fighting against all of the participants," Nathaniel told him with a cheerful smile. "It's like a hunt, except we're the target."

"You bastard," Faust replied. "Make sure you can beat them on your own because when I get overwhelmed, I like to run."

They bickered for a bit longer before heading out to the Association. Since Nathaniel had just cleared a white gate yesterday, it was likely that there wouldn't be one today just yet. Faust needed to see the giraffe and Nathaniel was meeting the french hunter at Talcot's office to go over how they should deal with the creature.

However, Faust stopped at the training center first. While he'd been in the white gate, Collin had called him once. Faust didn't know why but perhaps it was about their father. Mother hadn't called so it probably meant that his father was safe, but Faust really couldn't think of why else Collin would call.

Luckily it was still early so Collin hadn't started his class yet.

Faust stood awkwardly on the side until his brother noticed him and went over.

"Did something happen to Father?" Faust asked.

Collin looked confused for a moment. "No?"

"Oh." Now Faust was confused as well.

"Why? Did you see him?" Collin asked.

"I just thought…Nevermind." Faust shook his head. "I thought you called me yesterday because something had happened to Father. I'm sorry I missed your call."

"Don't worry about it. I didn't mean to call," Collin said curtly and left him.

Well, okay then. Faust was a bit offended but at the same time, if Collin had accidentally called him, it wasn't his fault.

Sighing, Faust headed back to the elevator and headed to the giraffe's prison. In the background, the elevator sang a cheerful song.

The guards let him in after verification and 'Nathaniel's sword was still there' was his first thought.

The giraffe looked at him expectantly.

Making sure the guards' backs were turned, Faust took out the box from his light. The giraffe looked at him and then at its box when Faust made no move to deliver it closer.

"You said you'll teach me a skill," Faust reminded the creature. "Something that can help the dead hunters. I thought about it, but I don't know what can help the dead."

"I was going to teach you how to revive the dead," the giraffe said to him. "But those hunters have been dead for too long. It'll be impossible to revive them."

"Isn't that necromancy?" Faust asked the giraffe, a bit disappointed. "It wouldn't help the hunters."

The giraffe just shook its head. "You humans who call themselves necromancers cannot keep the body and the soul together for long because they're not weavers. I can teach you how to weave them together. It's similar to granting them a second life, given that they aren't dead for long." The giraffe exhaled rather humanly. "Do you still want to learn?"

"Of course."

"Then let's make another deal," the giraffe said. "I'll teach you if you open the box."

"What?"

The giraffe huffed at him in irritation. "I can't teach you in this form with a sword impaled in me. Besides, rejuvenation cannot be learned in a few hours. I need a new body and that thing inside the box is a piece of me. If you take it out, I can transfer over."

"...Like file transfer?"

"I don't know what that is but you sound like a moron," the giraffe said. "You're the owner of that box. Only you can open it, but once you've opened it, you can't close the piece back in."

Faust asked, "Are you going to kill me?"

"No, but I'm going to make another deal with you." The grin on the giraffe was a bit unnerving. "That's how cooperation work."

Faust didn't trust it but he opened the box anyway.

The giraffe clearly had its own schemes. However, whatever it was working toward wasn't something that rivaled with Faust's goal. Otherwise, it wouldn't have given Faust the ring.

Something gold flew out of the box. It was a tiny fragment of a soul but it was more powerful than any other soul that Faust had seen before. It emitted a blinding light as it expanded and began building from the ground.

As Faust uncovered his eyes from the light, a man in a beige coat and pants and a white turtleneck stood before him. He was fairly good-looking and if it weren't for the giraffe-like smile on his face, Faust would've mistaken him for an intruder and stabbed him.

"Please stop smiling like a giraffe," Faust told the man. Behind him, the giraffe had slumped onto the ground after transferring over to the new body. It was presumably dead.

"You should give me a name," the man told him. "This name will remain my name until the—"

"How about Giraffe?" Faust said. No, that's a bit obvious. Jared? No... Ralph? No…

A sizzling sound interrupted his thought. A black bracelet had appeared on the man's hands. The ex-giraffe slowly turned the bracelet over and read the name engraved on it. "...Giraffe."

"Oh," Faust said intelligently. He didn't expect the name to register just like that. "Sorry."

"You're a disgrace," Giraffe told him. "Don't you dare call me a giraffe."

"I don't know how to change the name." Faust didn't think it was his fault. "Do you want a nickname instead? Nate used to have a dog called Albert but it responded only to George. I'll call you Albert then."

Faust then peered at the bracelet. "The name didn't change."

"As I was saying," Giraffe—no, Albert—said in irritation, "the name you gave me will remain my name until the end of our cooperation. I hope you'll be more level-headed in the future, you hopeless, despicable fool."

Since Faust couldn't explain how Albert entered, the ex-giraffe-now-human decided to leave first by teleporting. Faust took great care to not let the guards notice the dead giraffe and quickly left as well.

Once they met again on the first floor, the ex-giraffe said, "Do you want to hear the deal?"

Faust nodded for him to go on. He grabbed a drink from the fridge and sat down on one of the sofas. In case they discovered the dead giraffe, Faust didn't want to be too far from the scene. Else they might suspect him of something, especially since there weren't cameras in the giraffe's prison.

"I need you to find a few more boxes," the ex-giraffe said. "In return, I'll tell you everything about myself."

"Why does it matter to me?"

"Because I can help you slay the Light Dragon."